


The Differences that Bind Them

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Fluff, M/M, Proposals, coming together, first time things, lil bit of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: Peter and Stiles don't look at many things the same way, but ultimately, they agree on the things that count.History of their relationship, and a few firsts.





	The Differences that Bind Them

They’ve been together for almost ten years now, which is something Peter still sometimes finds surprising.  

The first couple of years weren’t great, and it wasn’t about anything between them. And no matter what anyone thinks, there was _nothing_ until Stiles went to college, because Peter has seen underage dynamics with Kate and Derek and he’s not going to do that. Not to Stiles, not when he can tell this boy and the boy’s happiness is so important to his own future.

The first couple of years was about monsters, the remaining ones coming to Beacon Hills. There were challenges from other packs, witches and an actual Minotaur, and what the fuck is that about? Together, they’re able to banish and/or kill anything threatening their pack.

The years after that have been challenging in other ways, as they get to know each other, deeply now, and not just the face that people show the world.

 

 

Stiles gets sick, it’s a head cold. It’s something he gets every winter. It happens, no biggie. Peter fusses over him, the way he saw his mother fussing over his human sister, fetching tissues and pushing homemade chicken soup like it’s a drug.

“I’m fine, Peter, I just need some sleep,” he says, although it sounds a little like ‘need some sleeb.’

Peter makes sure Stiles is firmly holding the bowl and then uses the back of his hand to check his forehead for a fever. “Finish your soup and then you can sleep.” He doesn’t seem warm, but humans always run cool to him.  

“I’m full,” Stiles whines, avoiding Peter’s hovering hands and putting the bowl on the bedside table. “Belly’s full and head’s full. I’m gonna crash for a few hours now.” He shuts his eyes and scoots down in the bed, practically buried under the blankets.

“Fine, I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”

“Don’t need it, Peter, I’ve been taking care of myself when I’m sick since forever.”

Peter says nothing, quietly seething and determined now to sit and watch over Stiles until he’s at least asleep. Maybe he had to take care of himself before, but not anymore.

 

Of course, when Peter gets injured, he also just wants to be left alone. But he remembers how he felt when Stiles had a simple human head cold, so he allows Stiles to rest next to him on the bed. This way, Stiles explains, he can make sure Peter’s only sleeping, watching his chest rise and fall, watching the skin of his arm mend itself as the bones inside did.

 

Stiles cooks, but doesn’t expect a lot of fuss or compliments about it. It’s something he does; he always cooked for his father and Peter’s praise embarrasses him.

“It’s a pot roast, Peter. It’s a roast, and I put it in a pot with vegetables and seasoning and things and then let it cook. Yeah, it’s good, but it’s not a miracle.”

“It’s delicious and I just want you to know I appreciate it,” Peter says, taking another chunk of meat, and even another carrot because Stiles’ vegetables taste good. “Everything you cook tastes wonderful, I haven’t had such excellent home cooking since – well, Talia had some positive qualities, but cooking wasn’t one of them.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about her.” Stiles smirks and puts another some more of the roast on Peter’s plate, along with an extra spoon of gravy.

Peter dunks a bite of roll into it, licking his fingers with a grin. Stiles makes tasty gravy.

 

The rare times Peter cooks, he expects happy noises throughout the meal, which is something challenging to do around a mouth full of pancakes. “You like my bacon, right?”

“Yes, dear, you make excellent bacon,” Stiles answers dutifully, taking another couple of slices. “Yumm!”

Peter doesn’t exactly preen, after all, he knows that Stiles knows that he makes the best breakfasts.

 

Saying I love you – Peter’s always more extravagant about everything, not as much shows from Stiles, who’s quiet about anything potentially emotional. They’re together, and that isn’t even a question. They’ve dated for almost two years and somehow neither has said it. Peter felt it and of course he can smell it on Stiles, probably around the same time he knew he was feeling it himself.

It’s date night, and they start at a favorite Italian restaurant, ‘their’ table in the back. The waiter knows them, and he always ignores when Stiles takes sips of Peter’s wine.

Afterwards, they go back to Peter’s house (as they always do) and then there’s the second part of date night. Starting with Stiles slamming Peter back against the front door and then stumbling into the living room onto the couch.

The wolf moves slowly, stripping Stiles item-by-item, teasing every bit of anticipation out of the younger man.

“What are you waiting for, Peter, you could have been dicking me ten minutes ago!”

Peter’s eyes are glowing brightly when he lifts his head from between Stiles’ legs and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Patience was never your strongest point. Thankfully, I’ve gotten rid of most of your other annoying virtues.”

Stiles tries to pull Peter up by his shoulders, shaking his head and muttering, “Bad wolf, big bad wolf. Get up here!”

Growling, Peter rises, and picks Stiles up, changing positions so he’s sitting on the couch and it’s like Stiles weighs nothing when he seats him on his lap.

“Oh there we go,” Stiles sighs, reaching behind him to make sure Peter’s lined up and he sinks down on his cock. “Gods, Peter, you feel so good.”

Peter loves it when Stiles is like this, greedy and anxious. “You’re in charge, love, take what you need.”

Stiles does, rolling his hips as he rises and falls, moaning quietly with Peter inside him. “So good, wolf, so good to me, I love your cock, I love you.”

Peter takes his hips and pulls him down. His claws leave tiny scratches they’ll both admire later. “Here you go, take this,” he says, pulling Stiles forward into a kiss, pumping up to meet his boy’s thrusts. He has enough room between them to thumb the head of Stiles’ cock, not surprised when he ends up with his tongue bitten. “Rabid little fox, I love you, too.”

 

Later, with the blanket that’s always on the back of the couch pulled over them, Stiles noses into Peter’s throat. “So, uh, you know we said that thing?”

“Um hmm.” Peter goes slowly here, not sure what the spike in Stiles’ scent means. A little content, a little insecure. “Are you okay with it? I am, I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Stiles pushes himself up enough to look Peter in the eyes. “I’m very okay with it. I’m even going to say it again. I love you, Peter.”

“And I love you as well, my moon.”

 

It wasn’t a big deal at all with Stiles getting Peter’s apartment keys. It just seemed to happen, keys being added to Stiles’ everyday key ring – as opposed to the collection for the Sheriff’s office, various squad cars, people’s houses and things Peter’d rather not know about.

“So, the guy at the desk downstairs gave me a pass for the garage, I’m assuming you know that. I’m thinking he wouldn’t just take that initiative on his own, he says you’re name like he’s terrified of you.”

Peter’s fangs show over his lips when he smiles. “It took a bit, but he’s figured things out. And so of course I know about the parking card. It’ll open the gate into the garage and your space is next to mine.”

“Hmm, thank you, Roscoe will appreciate it.” He takes a seat in his regular place on the sofa, and puts his mug of tea on his side table, looking around the apartment.

His jacket is hanging on off the coat tree by the front door with two pairs of his shoes underneath it. He’s got video games and the controller in the cabinet where their blu-rays are stored. He looks at the mug of tea, knowing Peter buys it only for him. His clothes are in the closet next to Peter and they share doing the laundry during the week.

“What are you thinking? Your scent is… I’m not sure, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s good. I think I moved in, did you know that?”

Peter smirks, turning the page in his book. “Took you long enough to notice.”

 

After a pack meeting, the first thing to do back at home is to shower. Yes, they’re pack, but Peter hates having everyone’s smells on them. One of Derek’s t-shirts is in an otherwise empty dresser drawer, and that’s enough of their alpha’s scent to keep Peter’s wolf content, but not so much that it annoys Peter the man.

When they’re showered, with a glass of port for each and soft music in the background, they can finish their evening reclining on the sofa. Stiles rests his back against Peter’s chest, eyes shut while Peter nuzzles his head, gently kissing his temple.

“You smell good,” Peter mutters and Stiles knows if he looked, Peter’s eyes will be half-closed, with a hint of supernatural blue showing. “Smell like us again.”

“Yup. You know my father even said we smell alike.” He turns and grins at Peter. “He’s just referring to soap and cologne, not like the other guys talk about.”

Peter takes the opportunity to give Stiles a quick kiss, licking the bit of wine off his lower lip. “Your father’s also mentioned grandchildren twice while I’ve been around. What’s that about?”

“He’s getting senile? We’ll have to watch that.” Stiles rolls over and waits for Peter to adjust himself so he can rest his head on Peter’s shoulder, full access to Peter’s thick neck. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just his way of saying he approves of us, or at least he’s used to the idea of us together?”

“I guess so. He has finally stopped mentioning his gun or showing me his gun or otherwise threatening me every time he sees me. That’s a step forward.”

Stiles gnaws on Peter’s neck, the second time, he mutters a spell that will make the mark last until morning. “There. Now you’re marked as mine.”

“Darling, I’m always yours, you know that.” He reaches down towards the floor and grabs Stiles’ hand on the way up. “Here, now you’re marked too, and this should last a bit.”

Stiles studies the ring on his hand and Peter waits patiently. It’s not at all flashy, just a plain platinum band. Stiles squints at it and smirks, looking up at Peter. “Is that a revenge spiral engraved on this?”

“Maybe?”

“Doofus.”

They’re quiet for a couple of minutes; pack meetings are just exhausting, both of them trying to behave themselves and not call everyone stupid (even though they are) or just blow the place up.

“Do you wanna get married?” Stiles asks. “I’m okay if we do or if we don’t. We’re mates, that’s really all we need.”

“I thought your father might appreciate something a little more formal. Maybe the electorate would prefer their Sheriff’s son is married to the older man, rather than just shaking up like a sugar baby.”

Punching Peter isn’t ever a good idea, but Stiles apparently can’t help himself from smacking him in the shoulder. “Ass. Yeah, we should do that, makes official stuff easier, too, or so I’m told. I’m thinking city hall, though, that okay with you?”

“Sure, whatever you want, whenever you want it.”

“My Dad’ll have to be there.”

“Of course, and anyone else you want,” Peter answers, lying through his teeth. He thinks of the daughter stolen from him and how Stiles’ father chose to ignore his child, but he knows Stiles isn’t willing to look at that. Not now, maybe not ever. “Whoever you want from the pack, of course.”

“I think you’re kinda whipped, you know. I like it.”

Peter takes his hand, twining their fingers together and kissing Stiles’ knuckles. “Don’t tell anyone, but I do, too,” he answers, and starts thinking about a quiet and perfect wedding, with a minimal amount of fuss. It’s between them, special and calm, just like his mate wants.


End file.
